


(No Doubt in My Mind) Where You Belong

by heydoeydoey



Series: Everything 'verse [31]
Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heydoeydoey/pseuds/heydoeydoey
Summary: It turns out being Kurt’s husband is even better than being Kurt’s boyfriend.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman
Series: Everything 'verse [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638469
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	(No Doubt in My Mind) Where You Belong

It turns out being Kurt’s husband is even better than being Kurt’s boyfriend. Puck always sort of figured it would be. He likes the permanence of the word _husband_. It isn’t heavy or confining, just a comfortably solid word. It means neither of them is going anywhere—not that Puck’s ever really worried about that. He and Kurt have had a forever kind of thing going since they were seventeen. 

Puck settles neatly into their post-honeymoon routine. He wakes up during the week to Kurt leaning over the bed to kiss him goodbye, dressed in his work clothes with perfectly-coiffed hair and smelling like citrusy cologne. He usually ends up dozing for another hour or so before heading down to the kitchen and finishing off the pot of coffee Kurt made while he watches the news. From nine until noon he shuts himself in his basement studio or in the office upstairs. Sometimes he’s working on songs, other times he’s dealing with the less glamorous things like talking to the band’s manager or his agent or his publicist. 

At noon he wanders back into the kitchen for some lunch and then spends the afternoon doing laundry (his own, most of Kurt’s clothes are dry-clean only), cleaning, and giving Kurt’s cat Dior her diabetes shots. (Puck would rather have a dog, but Kurt is too attached to his aging, diabetic cat to even consider another pet.) After those things are done, Puck sometimes walks to the grocery store or the dry cleaner, because they’re usually out milk and Kurt almost always has clothes to be picked up or dropped off. 

Kurt usually gets home at seven, laden down with his laptop and eighteen thousand file folders filled with copy to edit before he gets back to the office the next day. More often than not, he’s wearing his _please distract me from all this Vogue insanity for a little bit_ face. So Puck does, usually by making Kurt sit down and eat (he’s too thin again, Puck thinks) and entertaining him with the latest news from the band or the newest way Sarah is driving his mom and Robbie crazy. 

After dinner, they sit on opposite ends of the couch, Puck fooling around with his guitar while Kurt attacks articles with a red pen. Puck isn’t entirely sure what Kurt’s brand new title of copy editor means, except that he’s bringing more work home with him and obviously skipping lunch. And that his name is finally printed in tiny print on one of the back pages of the magazine. And yeah, Puck doesn’t think either of them minds seeing Kurt Hummel-Puckerman printed in black and white like that, especially since part of him is still surprised Kurt wanted to hyphenate his name at all. Kurt had adopted a _you jump, I jump_ mentality towards it, so they’re both Hummel-Puckermans now and Puck thinks it’s got a pretty nice ring to it. He hasn’t said it out loud or anything, but it’s also sort of a relief, because it means they won’t have to argue over which name to give their (still hypothetical) kids.

As well settled as they are into their weekday routine, Puck loves their weekend routine even more. Kurt usually sleeps late on Saturday, while Puck gets up early and does the grocery shopping, mostly because his chances of being recognised at eight AM in the Fairway are pretty slim. While waiting the checkout line, he adds that week’s _People_ , _Us Weekly_ and sometimes _In Touch_ (although it is the trashiest of the three) to the conveyer belt.

When he gets home, laden down with groceries, Kurt is usually in the kitchen and making breakfast. Puck smells cinnamon as he carries the groceries back towards the kitchen this morning, which means French toast. Kurt is still in his pajamas, his flannel pants riding low on his hips, highlighting that he definitely is too thin again. Kurt often forgets to eat when he’s stressed or busy and with this new promotion, it’s starting to show. 

“Morning,” Kurt smiles slow at him and Puck sets the groceries down on the island to pull Kurt in for a kiss.

“Smells awesome in here, babe.” Puck says when Kurt pulls away to flip the slices of bread in the frying pan. Puck puts the groceries away while Kurt plates up the French toast, each navigating around the kitchen and each other in a practised way. More than anything, Puck loves the comfort that comes with having spent nearly ten years with Kurt.

They sit side by side at the table, and Puck douses his toast in syrup while Kurt grabs the magazines sitting on the island, ready for their Saturday morning game of I Spy. They don’t read any of the articles and Puck never goes on any of the Internet gossip sites, but they like to flip through the pictures in the tabloids, looking for people they know. They even see themselves on occasion, usually in the ‘Stars—they’re just like us’ section of _Us Weekly_. The last time was several months ago, when the two of them had met up with Rachel for brunch. 

Kurt flicks quickly through _In Touch_ , but neither of them spot anyone. Through _Vogue,_ Kurt’s met a couple of the celebrities in _Us Weekly_ this week, and the drummer from a band who opened for Puck a couple years ago shows up in _People_ on a date with some chick who’s not his girlfriend.

“Hey,” Puck says suddenly, the picture beneath the cheating drummer catching his eye. Puck never actually expects to see himself in any of these magazines, so when he does it’s always a little jarring. The picture is several weeks old; he can tell because Kurt’s had his hair cut since then.  
  
“Must have been a slow news week,” Puck grins, pointing out the picture to Kurt. They’re walking somewhere in Midtown, holding hands, and Kurt looks dressed for work, so Puck guesses it was taken on a day he’d gone meet Kurt for lunch.  
  
“Rocker Noah Puckerman and longtime boyfriend Kurt Hummel enjoy a springtime stroll in Manhattan,” Kurt reads out loud, before shooting Puck a smirk. “Longtime boyfriend, huh? Looks like they're a little bit behind.”  
  
“I know. We’ve got rings on and everything too. Whatever happened to responsible journalism?” Puck laughs, before starting to clear up the breakfast dishes.  
  
“I think they’ve made progress,” Kurt grins. “Remember when the captions used to be ‘Noah Puckerman and a friend’?”  
  
Puck rolls his eyes. “Anybody who thinks we’re just friends obviously has to be _blind_.” He grins teasingly, “I mean, have they seen the way you look at me?”  
  
“Me?” Kurt swats him with a dishtowel. “ _You’re_ the one who can’t keep your hands to yourself.”  
  
Puck snorts, “My husband is totally hot, of course I can’t keep my hands to myself. Why would I _want_ to?”  
  
Kurt laughs and slides his arms around Puck’s waist, pulling him close. “You’re insufferable.”  
  
“Yeah,” Puck agrees, “but you love me.”  
  
“Can’t imagine why.” Kurt teases, tipping Puck’s face up to kiss Puck’s smiling lips.

Puck knows he wouldn't trade their silly Saturday morning routine for anything. He loves waking up and knowing he's exactly where he's supposed to be, and Puck knows it's pretty cheesy, but he figures he can handle that.  



End file.
